


oceans

by oikkawa



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10608090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oikkawa/pseuds/oikkawa
Summary: Mao turned, eyes tearing and mouth in a thin line, as if trying to hold back the sobs. Then his lips parted and he spoke, voice no more than a whisper. "What if it's true? What if I turn sixteen and the mark doesn’t show up? What if I don’t have a soulmate?""Then there will be no problem."Mao stared at him, brows raised in question. "No?""No.""Why?”Ritsu smiled, lifting his hand to caress his friend’s hair."Because if the universe does not choose a soulmate for you, I'll be yours."





	1. oceans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikagehira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikagehira/gifts).



> EDIT 04/25: Happy birthday @valksyrie, I love you and I hope you like this fic <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this piece is a birthday fic (my first multichapter work) and English is not my first language, but I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Please be gentle and bear with me ♥
> 
> The song for this chapter is Oceans by Seafret.

_“Look, look, Ritchan” the little boy pointed to the shining sky and traced his fingers in the air, as if trying to draw the same constellations in the space between him and the stars. “Mamma told me there’s a beautiful entity living up there, can you believe?”. He looked amazed, eyes wide open and chest growing with excitement. “She told me that someday I'll meet someone who will love me and take care of me, but not the way she does”. He paused, looking to the older boy lying down at his side in the grass at the backyard of his house. “It’s a different kind of love”._

 

_The cold air of mid-november rushed through the nine-year-old boy’s hair as he scoffed. “Seriously, Maa-kun, that’s just a bunch of nonsense she told you to make you believe someone out there loves you and thinks of you as much as you think of them”, and then he laughed at the expression plastered all along the youngster’s face._

 

_Mao twisted his face in disgust. “You say that because you’re afraid you don’t have someone waiting for you to appear”. He crossed his arms and scrunched his nose, turning his head to the other side._

 

_Ritsu heard his friend sobbing and sighed. He prostrated himself on one of his elbows, placing his free hand on the younger boy's shoulder and shaking it. "Maa-kun." No answer. He rattled again. "Come on, Maa-kun, look at me."_

 

_Mao turned, eyes tearing and mouth in a thin line, as if trying to hold back the sobs. Then his lips parted and he spoke, voice no more than a whisper. "What if it's true? What if I turn sixteen and the mark doesn’t show up? What if I don’t have a soulmate?"_

 

_"Then there will be no problem."_

 

_Mao stared at him, brows raised in question. "No?"_

 

_"No."_

 

_"Why?”_

 

_Ritsu smiled, lifting his hand to caress his friend’s hair._

 

_"Because if the universe does not choose a soulmate for you, I'll be yours."_

 

/-/

 

Mao grunted, raising his head in a leap. His knee hit the underside of his desk and a piercing pain started spreading in the area, causing more grunts to come out of his mouth (as well as some profanity that would leave any child traumatized). He held tight to his knee, as if the pain would pass by applying more pressure. In the middle of his struggle, he heard someone laughing.

 

He lifted his head angry at the intruder's audacity in mocking his pain and entering the room unannounced. His mouth opened, more swearing and cursing ready to be released, but his expression froze when he saw that the person in his room wasn’t any salesman announcing a new software or some groundbreaking technological tool that would make anyone (according to them) raise their glorious asses of their sofas and go to the nearest electronics store in search of this new invention. The person standing in front of him holding back a smile was his boss.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you", the intruder raised his hand to his face, adjusting his glasses, mouth in a thin line.

 

Mao sighed, settling  in his chair and arranging some paper sheets scattered across his desk, the mess a result from his nap. After placing the papers he would no longer need in a file, he turned his attention at the green haired intruder. "Is there a problem, Keito?" He asked as he got up to put the file inside a drawer in a cabinet placed in the corner of the room. But sensing the danger, stopped two steps from his destiny, shoulders tense, as he turned to face his boss. "Please don’t tell me you're here because the marketing department has changed the script of the new campaign again”.

 

Almost as if fearing the words he would hear, Mao hurried to put the sheets in the drawer quickly. He turned to Keito, who was watching him with pity stamped in his eyes. He adjusted his glasses again before he spoke.

 

"They decided that a more romantic approach would be the ideal."

 

Mao then closed his eyes, feeling his shoulders weighing. "I need coffee," announced. He went to his desk and pressed one of the buttons on his phone to call his secretary, ordering two _espressos_. Then he gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he made his way to the sofa in the middle of the room. He threw himself on the sofa, not caring what his visitor would think, after all, they were more friends than boss and subordinate.

 

Keito sat down, sighing. Although he was the son of the head of the company and the next to take over the place as soon as his father retired, he could sympathize with Mao (result of them being friends for a long time) and also knew that every change in the marketing team of the company that had hired them would result in more work not only for Mao, but for him as well.

 

After a few minutes of silence, Mao leaned forward, elbows resting on knees, left hand on his chin. "Can’t they decide the theme of the campaign once and for all? The deadline is coming and my team hasn’t got the project out of the paper yet because every time we finish the first stage, this damn company sends its two subordinates to come and tell us that the theme has changed again. We still need to work on the new site design, hire the models and photographers, and put the marketing department to work their asses out until we run out of time." Mao sighed. "That should be forbidden, your dad might take some action on that."

 

Keito shook his head, his face showing no emotion, though Mao knew that his friend internally felt the same indignation as him.

 

"Mr. Hasumi said he doesn’t want to take action on this case. The company's offer is too good, we can’t miss this campaign, and for him, the more money, the better”. Keito laughed bitterly. "Well, either way, we both know the importance that this project has for our company, it will open new doors and possibly new companies will be looking for us in search of our service. Just endure a few more weeks."

 

"I don’t know if I'll survive until then, it was a pain in the ass to work on this project about childhood and such, it’s cute, yes, no doubt about it, but it also is so _used_ ", Mao mocked.

 

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. Mao's secretary came in, carrying two cups of coffee and depositing it on a coffee table in the center of the room. She asked if they needed anything else and Mao denied it, dismissing her.

 

As soon as she left, he turned his attention to Keito, who had already picked up his cup and was sipping his coffee, nodding his head in approval. "Oh, Trickstar's coffee, probably the best place you'll find for lunch as long as you want a little peace of mind."

 

Mao took his cup. "Anzu always told me that I should take her there someday. You know, a date or something like what those young people do nowadays".

 

Keito laughed at the sentence. "You talk like a geezer even though you’re still twenty-five.”

 

Mao shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee and staring at his boss, who took the silence as a hint to keep talking. "Well, lately you've been acting more and more like an old man, complaining about many things and avoiding movement. Hajime told me he went to the lunch area a few days ago and found you grumbling with the coffee machine" Keito laughed.

 

Mao’s eyes twitched and his face took a serious expression. “It’s not my fault. That useless machine wasn’t functioning and I was in need of some coffee. It was almost 9 pm, my secretary already went home and I couldn't find the urge to go to the nearest cafeteria to buy a fucking coffee”.

 

Keito raised his eyebrows with an amused expression.

 

“Oh, so you thought that arguing with the coffee machine, an _inanimate object_ ” Keito emphasized the word, holding back a laugh  “would solve your lacking-cafeíne problem”.

 

Mao stared at his boss, opening his mouth to complain when he interrupted.

 

“By the way, you should get out of the house. Take Anzu for a date, watch the sunset, go to a zoo.”

 

Mao laughed with the idea of taking Anzu to see some penguins and giraffes. She would probably feed them with one hand while the other cupping her cell phone, mind miles away dealing with her company’s problems. Sure, Mao could work until his body collapses, stress and fatigue making him fall asleep in the middle of the day because of many nights spent awake, but he was sure she was more (if not twice) of a workaholic than he was. With a sigh, he stood up, placing his now empty cup on the coffee table and walking to his desk. He looked at the digital clock next to a picture frame that marked 6:35 pm. He turned to Keito.

 

"We're not teenagers anymore, Keito. And anyway, Anzu already has her own appointments. She is involved with a new band, Knights, according to her, and the boys look good. Her company is working hard to make their debut as good as the others".

 

Keito got up and walked to Mao's desk. "It seems like you're always making excuses. It's been a year, hasn’t it?” Keito said, taking the picture frame from his desk, analyzing it for a few seconds and turning it over to Mao to see the picture. It had been taken last year, across the Loire river during one of the few trips he and Anzu had been able to do together, a week after Mao had asked her hand in compromise. In the picture, they were laughing, Anzu hugging Mao, her orange scarf falling down as Mao was trying to hold it in his right hand. It had been one of the happiest moments in his life so far. "You can’t keep hiding," Keito continued. "Look, I know that for you the situation is a bit more delicate, but if you spend your entire life hiding from the world of fear of meeting your soulmate, then you aren’t really living."

 

Mao stiffened. There it was. The word that all the people who knew Mao (to the point of knowing that the mention of the same word would make him uncomfortable) avoided talking near him. Soulmates. Keito, however, seemed to be oblivious to the fact or mentioned it precisely to make Mao uncomfortable, to get him out of his cage. Something Mao appreciated at times, though he wouldn’t ever admit it out loud.

 

"I appreciate your concern, but we're not running away. And even if we were, I don’t feel uncomfortable with that. I'm fine the way I am".

 

Keito more than quickly replied "You do, but what about Anzu?".

 

Mao didn’t bother to respond, nor did he need to. The answer was plastered on his face. He knew what Anzu felt and he often felt for her. The will to live carefree, following their own path instead of fleeing from destiny, running away from their soulmates even if their hearts ached for the comfort that just the destined ones would give to them.

 

Keito then took the last sip of his coffee and twisted his nose, the already cold liquid not doing favors to his tastes. He threw the cup in the trash next to Mao's desk and headed for the door, opening it and turning to his friend, who was watching him from behind his desk, suitcase in hand.

 

Adjusting his glasses, he cleared his throat. "You should go home. Take a bath, eat something and get a good night of sleep. You look like you will drop dead as soon as I close this door.”

 

_I can’t even deny that_ , Mao thought. Keito closed the door, leaving him alone packing up his things, stuffing his notebook into his briefcase and telling his secretary he was leaving. He shut off his computer and was exiting his room when Keito called him, brief in hand, heading toward his way.

 

“Almost forgot. As for the campaign, it will be about soulmates."

 

Mao's stomach twitched. Great. In addition to devoting more than two-thirds of his day to a campaign in which the employers were big assholes, he would still have to spend his time working on a subject that made him uneasy.

 

"Oh, fucking great. I'm going to love to start the project from scratch, even more so with a subject like that”, he mocked, already feeling the pressure pilling up on his insides. “Oh, by the way, don’t let those two smartasses put their feet here again trying to convince us to change the campaign subject", Mao said, remembering the two employees the company that hired them was sending over two times a week to check up on their progress in the campaign.

 

Keito stared at him in confusion.

 

Mao smiled wickedly. "Kuro said he's going to get them back to where they came from with their hands in place of their feet, if that's possible."

 

Keito shivered, shaking his head. "From him, I wouldn’t  doubt for a second".

 

Mao headed to the elevator chuckling because it was so like Kuro to scare away unwanted visitors, making them never set foot in the company again if he wanted to. He pressed the button, sighing with relief that he had managed to get away completely after a stressful and tiring day. What he wanted most now was to go home, take a shower and lie down in bed. Forget the conversation about soulmates and possibly all that it implied.

 

It would be a long trip back.

 

/-/

 

Mao came out of the bath, towel wrapped around his waist. He checked his cell phone for lost messages, possibly from Anzu, who had not yet arrived and was likely to be late again. He knew how hard his wife worked to get the boys chosen by the producer to succeed in winning the target audience over with their songs and Anzu, being the head producer and one of the most influential in this industry, had not only to do her own work, but also to help others.

 

It was a difficult task and Mao knew how much she felt guilty for not paying attention to him. Although they had been engaged for a year and living together for six months now, some things were still strange to them. Sleep in the same bed, have breakfast together, go to work, have dinner.

 

_Things that couples do_ , Mao thought. Although they are a couple, something has always seemed wrong, out of place for both of them. Now, looking at the bed where they slept every day, where they made promises and laughed, where they made love, Mao couldn’t shake the feeling that what they were doing was wrong. After all, they aren’t soulmates.

 

There, in the dark room, illuminated only by a hint of light coming in through the open window, Mao wondered if he was, somehow, wrong in wanting to pursue a normal life without the fear and pressure to live without knowing where his destined person was. Was it wrong to try and leave behind that part of his life that he couldn’t even remember?

 

To run away, as Keito had said.

 

It wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He could remember a thing or two before the car accident, when he was fifteen. Some flashes from elementary school, the trip he made with his family the summer before.

 

Deep down he felt there was something missing. Or someone. When he had asked his mother, in the hospital, she had pondered for a few minutes, almost as if deciding whether to tell him something or not. Seeing her son’s face, full of curiosity and concern, she had put her hand on his shoulder and smiled.

 

"All you need is here, my dear"

 

And Mao had believed her. Until he was sixteen. The memories of that dawn are still vivid in his mind. He had awakened with his chest burning, and had risen from the bed, throwing the covers on the floor. In desperation, he took off his shirt and ran into the bathroom, switched on the light and all the air was expelled from his lungs.

 

The mark. Small constellations drawn along his right clavicle to his elbow in a mixture of black and gray gradients. Mao had found it beautiful and smiled, watching his own reflection in the mirror.

 

"Soulmate, huh?"

 

He fell asleep that night, tracing his fingers through the marks, a smile spread across his face. Then he had his first dream.

 

_He saw a kitchen. It wasn’t the kitchen of his house, let alone the home of someone he knew. The space was more sophisticated, with white upper cupboards, glass doors, a black countertop, some brown chairs upholstered and arranged around a glass table filled with trays of sweets and other things Mao didn’t know the name of._

 

_He saw himself, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing the uniform he had assumed to be that of his old school. He didn’t look as older as eleven, and his face was contorted in an expression of agony._

 

_In front of the countertop, with his feet stretched out to reach for the materials there, there was another boy in the same uniform, but he wore a blue and white pattern apron. Watching him, Mao realized he was also probably eleven or twelve. As soon as the boy reached a white plate with some mixture that should be a failed attempt to cook, he turned to the younger Mao, smiling and putting the plate in front of him, as if offering._

 

_"Come on, Maa-kun, give it a try, I made these especially for you."_

 

_Mao noticed that the boy's eyes were red, and his face was smeared with some scraps of candy in his mouth. He watched as his younger self leaned forward, exhilarating._

 

_"Your food always looks horrible", he grumbled before taking something blue (was that a mollusk?) and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes and swallowing._

 

_The red-eyed boy was restless, almost jingling in place, waiting for the other boy's verdict._

 

_Then his younger self opened his eyes and smiled._

 

_"Delicious, Ritcchan"_

 

Mao had woken up the next day, feeling the sweet taste in his mouth, not knowing that this had been his first sight of many he would have.

 

In the years that have passed, he sought desperately for his soulmate, but never found they. And in the midst of the chaos his life was put in, the accident, the mark, he met Anzu. She was a vivid proof that he had a normal life before it all was taken away from him. Even when he couldn’t remember most of his past, even when she said that they were friends since his nine years and he didn’t know, _couldn’t_ know. She stayed by his side.

 

Probably it was in that moment his feelings for her changed. Two years later, when he turned eighteen, they started dating. She, though also bearing a mark, had never found her soulmate. They sought comfort in each other's arms, leaving behind a possible future that would never happen again.

 

And then, when everything seemed to be going smooth, his dreams started. Flashes from different places, but always the same person, black hair, bangs falling in front of red eyes. A smile so wide that its fangs sometimes appeared. Mao felt happy, warm. That seemed right, his heart aching for that person. Though part of his mind denied, knowing certain that these images were being imposed by something far beyond his comprehension, he could not shake the feeling that surrounded him.

 

After finally convinced that his “dreams” were a type of PTSD, just like his doctor suggested, he was bombarded with songs. At any hour of the day, no matter what he was doing, he listened. One voice. Slow and soothing. Mao had noticed after waking up in the middle of the night a few days after they had moved to their new apartment, waking Anzu and asking if she had left the stereo of the living room on. She had denied it and had told him to go back to sleep, straightening the pillow and giving him a kiss on the forehead. The music continued to play, different rhythms, different lyrics, night after night.

 

Kuro had cornered him into the company snack room the following saturday, asking if he wasn’t feeling well due to the fact that Mao was swearing out loud to everyone’s ears because _damn, that fucking voice has been singing singing for almost an hour now._ After Mao told him what was happening (was he going crazy? Really?), Kuro gave him an understanding nod.

 

"Well, when Shu and I split up during high school, sometimes I would hear him crying. It was almost like... A sixth sense, you know?", then Kuro sighed, as if the memory was painful. "When we were kids, he liked dolls more than strollers, and that led his other classmates to bully him. While I was by his side, everything was fine, but when the time came and we parted... Well, it was a difficult time. I would wake up in the middle of the night wanting to break someone's leg because he wouldn't stop crying and someone or _something_ was making him cry”.

 

Mao was speechless. He knew how protective Kuro was to Shu, he had seen it in the many times they had gone out together to drink. Something inside Mao disturbed him as he thanked Kuro for help and returned to his office. He had sat on his chair, hands clasped together as realization suddenly slaped him in the face.

 

It wasn’t PTSD. It was his soulmate. And they liked to sing.

 

Now, while waiting for Anzu to arrive from work, Mao couldn’t help but sigh at the memory. He had felt so happy that day, but as soon as the foundness came, it faded away.

 

Thinking too much about it was exhausting. Mao resumed his plan for the night, as he slipped on his pajama pants and lay on the bed. His phone vibrated with a new message and he reached out to catch it, unlocking the screen.

 

_The rehearsal was a success, the boys want to go out to celebrate. Do not wait for me, I know you must be tired. I'm sorry dear._

 

Mao put the phone back on the bedside table and settled into bed. Burying his face in the pillow, he let himself drift off to sleep, as soft music began to ring in the back of his mind, the same voice cradling his dreams, soothing his mind. Familiar.

 

"Where are you?" He whispered, inconscious of the words leaving his mouth before falling asleep.

 

/ - /

 

In a place far away, a song echoed, its essence mixing with paintings and portraits that filled the cold room.

 

_It feels like there's oceans._

_Between me and you once again_

 

With his fingers sliding on the keys, Ritsu rested his head on the surface of the piano.

 

He smiled.

 

"I'm here, Maa-kun."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, we all know how stressful was your day, Mao, taking naps at work. Yep, totally fooling everyone. 
> 
> I am sorry, you will notice throughout the next chapters that I really like to mention songs in everything I write.


	2. all I want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is All I Want by Kodaline.

Ritsu was having a meeting with Mr. Cookie. The room he was in was like a straight-out version of one of those Melanie Martinez music videos. Pink and yellow fought over a space in the furniture, going from sugar couches to marshmallow lamps. In front of Ritsu, was the biggest cookie he had ever seen in his life. A mouth, nose and eyes composed his face and huge chocolate bars came out of specific areas of his "body," which Ritsu supposed were his legs and arms.

 

Ritsu was having a meeting. A meeting with a cookie that had legs and arms and this cookie was staring at him, tentatively, deliciously. Ritsu's stomach growled.

 

Mr. Cookie smiled.

 

"Come on, just one bite", Mr. Cookie said, holding out his chocolate arm to Ritsu. "I know you're dying to prove it".

 

Ritsu moaned. He shook his head, moving away. As hungry as he was, thinking about eating a giant cookie with legs and arms and that was _talking with him_ wouldn’t fit into the list of things he would like to do before he died.

 

As if reading his thoughts, the Cookie approached Ritsu, big chocolate eyes glaring at him.

 

"If you won’t eat me, then we will do otherwise".

 

Suddenly, even before Ritsu had a chance to turn around and run, hands came up from the floor, gripping his ankles. Looking down, he realized they weren’t ordinary hands, they were hand-shaped donuts.

 

Desperate, Ritsu tried to pull away, not succeeding. Mr. Cookie was approaching him, taking its precious time, teeth made of nuts jutting out like preys. Fearing for his life and not wanting to die on a cookie’s hands, Ritsu crouched to try to break the donuts wrapped around his ankles.

 

"Ritsu," he heard someone calling.

 

He raised his head to face Mr. Cookie, but that voice didn’t belong to him. It was less sweet.

 

"Ritsu," the voice called again, now more urgently.

 

Mr. Cookie stood in front of him now, placing one of his chocolate hands on Ritsu's right shoulder.

 

"Snack time," it said, opening its mouth even more and approaching Ritsu.

  


With his heart racing, Ritsu tried to push the cookie away, but one of his arms ripped through the crust of Mr. Cookie's body and got stuck. The mouth was even closer, so Ritsu closed his eyes and prepared himself for his end.

 

When he felt a nagging pain in his arm, Ritsu shouted.

 

He woke up, opening his eyes and looking at the boy at his side. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had been having a nightmare and the one that had woken him (with a pinch) was Izumi, who was staring at him.

 

"You were drooling" he said, turning his attention to his coffee.

 

Wiping his face, Ritsu looked around, trying to remember where he was.

 

Cafeteria. University. Eating... He looked down. Chocolate chip cookies.

 

He moaned, putting both hands on his face as he tried to shake the memory of the nightmare he had a few seconds ago.

 

Through his fingers, Ritsu saw Izumi watching him inquisitively.

 

"Who's Mr. Cookie?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

 

Ritsu moaned again, letting his hands fall into his lap. He looked back at his plate and pulled it away, reluctantly and cautiously, as if the cookies were suddenly alive and trying to eat him.

 

"I was having a nightmare," he replied succinctly.

 

Izumi raised his eyebrows even more, staring at Ritsu as if he had gained a second head.

 

"A nightmare with Mr. Cookie," he said, voice full of sarcasm. "You were muttering ' _please, somebody help me_ ' and ' _you can’t eat me, cookies don’t eat people'_ , so I thought it would be better to wake you up”. Then he added “Not because I thought you were having a nightmare, but because you were drooling and that’s nasty”.

 

Ritsu stared at his friend, face twisting in an expression of anger and resentment.

 

"This is the only time I'll ever forgive you for disturbing my sleep. Don’t expect me to thank you", he said and looked down at his untouched plate. "Also, Secchan, I'm not hungry any more, you can eat my cookies if you want."

 

Then he set the plate in front of Izumi, who stared back at him.

 

"Annoying, next time I'll let you be eaten by the cookie", he said, picking up one cookie and stuffing a good chunk into his mouth.

 

Ritsu yawned.

 

"Okay, right, Secchan," then he laid his head on the table, struggling to not fall asleep again as he waited for Izumi to eat the cookies. He wasn’t ready to have another meeting with Mr. Cookie and his fellow donut hands.

 

As soon as Izumi finished eating, the two of them stood up, leaving their money on the table and leaving to go to the other side of the campus, where they would have their next classes. The campus clock was showing 2:42 pm., giving them eighteen minutes to get to their classes.

 

As they left the cafeteria, Ritsu shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and bringing his coat closer to his body. The cold air all over the campus kept the students from staying outside the buildings and making them seek shelter in warmer places. Some couples dared to sit on benches, seeking warmth in each other's bodies. A few steps and the duo walked through a couple where the exchange of saliva was intense.

 

Izumi rolled his eyes.

 

"Annoying," he murmured, adjusting his scarf wrapped around his neck, covering the entire area to his mouth.

 

Ritsu ignored the couple and looked at Izumi. He rubbed his eyes to ward off the sensation of sleep.

 

"You say that, but if Makoto-kun asked to do the same thing, you probably would", he said.

 

Izumi stared at him, expression closing as he twisted his nose, looking away. "Not in a thousand years. It's not because we're dating that I have to do everything he ask me to”.

 

Ritsu just stared at him, bored.

 

"Even if you weren’t, you would. It's just who you are".

 

Izumi returned his gaze, sighing. He rubbed his head and put his hands back in his pockets, quickly.

 

"Shut up and walk, or we'll be late", he said and as if to emphasize his statement, quickened his steps, leaving Ritsu behind, yawning.

 

"I wish I could be at home sleeping", he commented, making Izumi look at him suspiciously.

 

"How do you sleep so much and still manage to get to work and attend your classes? You're not cheating, are you?" he asked as they entered the lobby of the main building, which, due to the the cold, was packed with people, mostly teenagers, sprawled on sofas and armchairs, laughing and talking to each other.

  


Ritsu felt dislocated. Although he still seemed to be in his early twenties (which he was really proud of), he couldn’t shake off the sense of dislocation. At twenty-six, he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do in his life. He graduated three years ago in his photography major and had been working professionally for two years, making money in marketing companies and sustaining himself solding his pictures.

 

Modestly, Ritsu was very good. He had a knack for this type of work, not to mention that his pictures also served as inspiration for his paintings, his true passion. After graduating in his first major, he started the Arts major at Yumenosaki Private University, taking classes in History of Art, as well in Theory of Perception and Painting. Now, in his third year, he divided his time between photographing to support himself and painting pictures on canvas.

 

He lived an ordinary life without luxury or ostentation and it was comforting. There, in the midst of so many young people, full of dreams and aspirations, following a path in search of wealth and recognition, Ritsu just wanted to move away, sit in a corner and possibly let his mind loose as the teacher lectured on how members of architecture are derived from human limbs, according to Michelangelo.

 

 _Either way, a quiet classroom seems better than a crowded lobby,_ Ritsu thought, as he headed for the staircase.

 

Noticing that Izumi was still waiting for an answer, he sighed loudly to show how annoyed he was with his friend’s attempt to keep up with the conversation.

 

"No, Secchan, I'm not cheating", Ritsu replied, climbing the stairs as Izumi shook his head at his side, avoiding bumping on others.

 

Izumi was in the Culinary Arts course. His aptitude in cooking was completely different from Ritsu’s, who made sweets with horrible appearance, usually scaring whoever was to taste his food. Izumi had a natural talent and even if Ritsu bet that he would pursue a career as a singer or artist, he surprised both his friend and his boyfriend, Makoto, when he announced (after three years in break) that he would major in Culinary Arts. It was Izumi’s last year in university and he currently shared apartment with Makoto, already graduated.

 

Ritsu found it a bit adorable how Izumi could be an asshole with all the people around him, but still melt and become a decent and gentle person near Makoto (although he would die and not admit it out loud). Of course, they were soulmates, a fact solidified by the cat-shaped markings on both’s wrist, which Izumi used to hide or avoid showing to Ritsu after he had let out while one night when he was drunk that he also had a mark, but had never met his soulmate.

 

Which isn’t totally a lie, Ritsu had thought back then.

 

Although he insisted it wasn’t a big deal, everyone present that night was a little more careful about what they said near Ritsu now, which made him feel relieved inside. Remembering painful memories wasn’t on his list of favorite things to do while trying to get a good time with his friends. It probably was in a position even further down the list than being eaten by Mr. Cookie.

 

As soon as they got to the floor where Izumi would have his classes, the two parted. Ritsu went up another two floors, crossing a hall full of people and dodging as much as possible until he reached his classroom.

 

History of Art. At least he would have sixty minutes to take a nap before he could face the cold outside again until he got home. Sighing, he sat in his usual place, resting his chin in his folded arms on the table and letting himself be dragged away somewhere, hopefully, far away from serial killers cookies and lost soulmates.

  


/-/

 

"Suu-chan, tell Nacchan I'm not going to travel from Hokkaido to Kanto just to see your band playing", Ritsu said, staring at his laptop screen as if it had done him a great offense. He turned his attention to the canvas on which he was trying to paint Hakodate Park.

 

He heard a sigh and, turning his eyes quickly to the laptop, saw that Tsukasa moved uncomfortably on his side of the screen. Arashi rested their chin in one hand, fingers moving almost as if following the rhythm of a silent beat.

 

"But Ritsu-chaaaaaan," Arashi whined, approaching the camera so that only their face was appearing. "I wanted to introduce you to my boyfriend, he's such a catchy", after the sentence, Ritsu heard someone complaining with Arashi on their side of the screen.

 

Ritsu returned to paint while answering "Almost 985km".

 

Tsukasa laughed. "Just an hour's flight, Ritsu-senpai."

 

"An hour's flight with me having to put up with a bored Secchan complaining that he would prefer be at home spoiling Makoto-chan," Ritsu scoffed.

 

On his side of the screen, Izumi blushed as Leo jumped in his chair, suddenly interested.

 

"Ha ha ha, that's flashy news", Leo said as he tried to breathe through his laugh. "So you mean Sena still does these things?" He mocked.

 

As if it were possible, Izumi blushed even more. He opened his mouth to protest, but Ritsu interrupted him.

 

"You have no idea".

 

Izumi wrinkled his eyebrows. "Stop being annoying", he stated as he tried to make the heat in his face go down.

 

Leo ignored him and continued.

 

"Anyway, Rittsu, it's not like you won’t be sleeping during the entire flight".

 

Ritsu nodded, knowing it was no use denying it. From the moment he sat in his seat on the plane and closed his eyes, he would open them only when the plane landed. That is, if no stewardess knocked down some glass with grape juice on his leg again. "Fortunately".

 

Arashi clapped their hands, putting a smile on their face.

 

"Then it's settled! Tomorrow we will order your ticket and we will wait for you at the airport in a week from now on,” they said, declaring the matter finished.

 

Ritsu didn’t look at the screen, only sighed, wiping the paint from the brush in a bottle of water. His painting was finally finished and with a sense of satisfaction, he took the canvas from its stand and lifted off the bench, following to one of the walls of his studio to place it there. He took a few steps back to admire his work. It was a beautiful painting with a view from the top of Odori Park, a green line cutting through the stone town. Ritsu liked this one, the essence of colors merging into a landscape that even Ritsu would doubt to be real were it not for the fact that he passed by this same place almost every day. Only when Tsukasa cleared his throat that Ritsu snapped out of his thoughts.

 

He wiped his hands and returned to the front of the notebook screen, noticing that Izumi had already turned off, also Arashi who had left a message in the chat, _bye everyone!! Mika-chan is calling me, I need to take care of my boy and I want to catch the opportunity now that he is in suuuuuch a good mood, heheh talk to you all later_ , and the only ones online were Tsukasa , Leo and himself.

 

"You know, I'm glad you will come, this show means a lot to the three of us", Tsukasa said.

 

Ritsu murmured in agreement as Leo let out a shrill sound.

 

"Yes, yes, let's all have fun, but now I need to leave. In fact, will you come by tomorrow, Suoo?" Leo asked as he rose from his chair, leaning over to let only his face appear on the webcam.

 

Tsukasa nodded. "Wait for me”, he said, smiling.

 

Ritsu rolled his eyes. Damn couples.

 

Leo laughed and said goodbye to the other two, disconnecting from the call. Tsukasa turned his attention to Ritsu and his smile faded a little.

 

"Maybe you'll find him here”, he said.

 

Ritsu sighed, knowing what the sudden change of subject meant and what person Tsukasa was referring to. He shook his head, suddenly finding it much more interesting to scribble a pad of papers with a pen that were located next to his notebook than to face his friend on the other side of the screen.

 

"Hmm," he murmured.

 

Then it was Tsukasa's turn to sigh, catching Ritsu's full attention.

 

"You're the only one who knows what to do with your life, but I've already made my point about it clear. He deserves to know the truth, I hope you know what you’re doing".

 

Ritsu stopped scribbling the paper and stared at Tsukasa, incredulous.

 

"Suu-chan, I don’t even know where he is or what happened with him. He could be living in another country by now and I wouldn't now. It's been ten years already”, he replied, his expression serious.

 

Tsukasa focused his gaze somewhere above the screen, thoughtfully. His mouth opened as if he was pondering if he should say something or not, but no sound came out. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked at Ritsu.

 

"Okay, I'm not going to get myself into this. I will be waiting for your arrive next week”.

 

Ritsu nodded, saying goodbye to Tsukasa (that wished him a safe flight) and disconnected from the call. He turned off his notebook, closing the screen and rising from his chair. Tired, he stretched his back and began to clean the mess in his studio. Brushes, canvases and paints were spread all over the room, as did his paintings. This was Ritsu’s favorite room in his apartment. He didn’t live in a luxurious complex with a high plaster ceiling and large solid wood doors, in fact the space was small, with a social room, this one being mostly occupied by his piano, a kitchen with a small sink, bench and a table with four chairs, one bathroom and two bedrooms, one being the one Ritsu slept and the other the one he used as a studio.

 

Although his rent could cover a more luxurious apartment, Ritsu liked the convenience that this one presented him. After all, he did nothing more than sleep, sometimes paint and others play the piano. So a small apartment just for him was more than enough. When he left his parents' house at the age of twenty-two, Ritsu was no longer more worried about renting a large apartment than the fact that he would have no one to wake him up every morning when his alarm clock wasn’t enough.

 

But alone, Ritsu was able to survive.

 

After he cleaned up the studio, or part of it, Ritsu took a shower and after drying himself and putting on pajamas, he went to the living room and sat down in front of the piano, finally free to think about what his friend had said.

 

He didn’t really blame Tsukasa, he knew he meant well. In one of the most difficult times of his life, he was the first person on which Ritsu could lean, seeking a friend's shoulder and advice. Tsukasa had always been good at advice and had never denied help even though he was busy with his own commitments. Both he and the other two Knights’ members, as well as Izumi and Makoto, knew about Ritsu's past and the way he had fled away from his destiny.

 

Ten years, Ritsu thought. Ten years since I last saw you.

 

A pain spread through his chest, making it difficult to air get into his lungs. He was alone, chose for it. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and rested his fingers on the keys for a few seconds, before sounds filled the empty space.

 

Swallowing the lump formed in his throat, moved his fingers along the piano and began to sing.

 

Sing for Mao. Because Ritsu knew, he felt, that Mao would listen to him. While letters would never come out of the draft, emails would never reach the receiver and words would never be uttered, Ritsu knew his music would catch up to him.

 

_All I want is nothing more_

_Than hear you knocking at my door_

_Cause if I could see your face once more_

_I could die as a happy man, I'm sure_

 

He opened his eyes and tears began to blur his vision.

 

_"Retrograde amnesia?", 15-year-old Ritsu asked, getting up from his chair in the waiting room, place he had been occuping in the last two weeks while waiting for the patients visit time. He brushed his eyes, staring in disbelief at the doctor who watched him warily. "And what does that mean?"_

 

_The doctor took a deep breath, flipping through some papers and jotting down some things. After a few tortuous minutes, he continued._

 

_"During the accident, your friend suffered a blow in the head. We did several tests and a detailed analysis of the patient's situation. All areas of the brain were intact, but in the third exam we found a lesion in the hippocampus". With that, Ritsu nodded. He knew from biology lessons that the hippocampus was the part of the brain associated with memories. Although he slept in almost every class, Maa-kun had made him study for the final biology test in his home, frizzing all the important parts of the subject and making sure they were memorized by Ritsu. He had never studied so much in one night. "Our medical team found that your friend may show traces of a retrograde amnesia, that is", the doctor took a deep breath, watching Ritsu's expression, before continuing "a partial memory loss that may be temporary or permanent."_

 

_Ritsu was paralyzed, all the air being expelled out of his lungs in a blast. Memory loss?_

 

_Had Mao lost his memory?_

 

_As if reading his thoughts, the doctor put his hand on Ritsu's shoulder, squeezing and leaning to stay level with the other's eyes._

 

_"We can not tell you with absolute certainty, we must first wait for the patient to wake up and then ask him some questions”._

 

_Ritsu nodded and the doctor straightened up, apologizing as he left to see another patient. Taking a deep breath, Ritsu sat again in his chair._

 

_Of course. They just had to wait for Mao to wake up, so he would talk to his friend, tell him what happened and hope he recognized him._

 

_But that didn’t happen. A week later, from the bedroom door, Ritsu saw Mao talking to the nurses. They asked him to talk about the things he remembered before the accident._

 

_His name was Mao. He was fifteen. His parents and his sister had visited him earlier. He played guitar and was a member of the school's basketball club. He didn’t remember which school he was in and when one of the nurses asked if he had any friends he wanted to call to say he was awake, he shook his head._

 

_He did not remember any of his friends._

 

_Ritsu didn’t wait for the other questions, neither for the doctor coming from the other side of the hall. He didn’t turn around when his name was called by the nurses. He ran as fast as he could, diverting from doctors and relatives visiting other patients._

 

_Suddenly he remembered his father at the dinner table, stroking his hand and saying that they would wait until Mao woke for Ritsu to say goodbye. But there would be no farewell._

 

_Mao had forgotten Ritsu._

 

Straightening in his chair, Ritsu stared at the piano in front of him, his fingers moving automatically giving life to the sounds.

 

_When you say your last goodbye_

_I died a little bit inside_

_I lay in tears in bed all night_

_Alone, without you by my side_

 

A month after he moved out of town, his mark appeared. Looking at himself in the mirror that morning, Ritsu remembered every time he mocked Mao for waiting so long for the mark. Ritsu had a soulmate and, like him, their skin would be marked in gradients of black and gray, galaxies scattered from his left collarbone to his elbow.

 

And then he cried. Cried because Mao had forgotten him. Cried because Ritsu was too scared to face the truth and ran away.

 

Cried because he had a soulmate and soon Mao would have one too and Ritsu didn't want to accept that that person wouldn't be him.

 

_But if you loved me_

_Why did you leave me?_

_Take my body_

_Take my body_

 

Ritsu couldn't see the surface of the piano in front of him, his vision blurred. He wish he could see Mao.

 

_All I want is_

 

He missed him.

 

_And all I need is_

 

He needed him.

 

_To find somebody_

 

He didn’t want to be left behind.

 

_I will find somebody_

 

He was the one that had left the other behind.

 

_Like you_

 

The music stopped.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ritsu is struggling and so am I. Actually rewrote this chapter three times and I still don't like it.


End file.
